Worry
by TrashFan
Summary: High School AU one-shot. When Dean hears that Sammy is in the nurse and might be transferred to the hospital, he immediately storms down there. What he finds isn't exactly what he expected. Rated K for language.


Dean Winchester ignored the surprised stares and pointed fingers as he half-stomped, half-sprinted his way to the nurse's office. The red hot fury building in his stomach didn't seem to care that there was no one to direct his anger at; he was absolutely pissed that he had to find out that the school was considering sending Sammy to the hospital from some gossipy soccer player in the hallway. The Winchesters hadn't been at Winter Park High School for long, but to Dean is seemed like common decency to inform any family in the building when something like this happened.

He burst through the door of the nurse's, and frantically looked around the room for his little brother. A cursory sweep yielded nothing – the maroon, plastic upholstered seats were vacant and the medicine counter didn't have a line. That's when Dean noticed; the shiny white floor tiles were dotted with strips of blood droplets. There wasn't any staff in the room, but he spoke out anyway.

"Where the hell is my brother?" he grunted loudly. A plump, overly-tanned woman in light purple scrubs appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"How can I help you?" she asked, eyes wide in alarm.

"Where is Samuel Winchester? He's my brother and I heard he was down here."

The woman shifted uncomfortably and played with the overly-tight drawstring of her pants. "We didn't call for you."

"Yeah, I'm fucking aware. Where is he?" he snarled. The nurse opened her mouth to say something, but a voice cut her off.

"I'm here," came a small, tired sigh. Dean whipped his head around to try to find the source of the sound; he noticed a beige curtain drawn around the corner of the room. It blended in so well with the wall, he'd missed it in his first glance around the room. In a few strides, Dean was there, ripping the fabric out of his way. He stopped short.

Sam was sitting up on a stiff, low standing bed, holding a blood-drenched rag to his face. The freshmen had begun to shoot up but not out, and all 6 feet of wiry beanpole was splotched with angry, blooming bruises. From where Dean stood, he could see three ice packs draped over Sam: one on his head, one on his abdomen, and one on his knee.

"What happened to you?" the older brother breathed.

"I fell."

"Like hell you did. What. Fucking. Happened?" The stout woman that had followed Dean behind the curtain let out a sound at his cursing, but Sam held up a hand to call her off.

"I fell down the staircase. I'm _fine_ ," he grunted.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "If you're fine, why're they thinking of sending you to the hospital?"

He stiffened at this. "They…just want to make sure I didn't break anything, but I didn't. I know what bone fractures feel like, and I don't have any."

Usually when Sammy was hurt, there was an obvious guilty party to take out his anger on; the lack of an antagonist left Dean at a loss for what to do. He turned to the nurse. "Why wasn't I called down here? Did none of you guys think that I might want to know that my brother's a walking bruise?!" The nurse looked up at the burly senior and repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words. After her prolonged silence, he prodded again. "Well?!"

"I told her not to," Sam said. Dean slowly turned back around.

"…what? Why?"

Sam looked down and busied himself with adjusting the ice on his knee. "I didn't want to worry you," he finally mumbled.

Dean squatted next to his brother to be at eye level. "Sammy, why won't you look at me?" He waited. "Why won't you look at me?"

Sam finally raised his head to meet Dean's stare. The younger's eyes were hard, but not just in defiance. There was something else there, almost like they were…resigned. His usual light of intelligence seemed to be lacking. It was too much for Dean, he had to look away.

"Sammy, what really happened? Please."

The boy took in a shaky breath. "Just some guys. It's fine, I was just outnumbered."

Dean's nostrils flared and his jaw fell. "Someone _did this_ to you? Who? I'll fucking kill them," he hollered.

Sam held up a hand, trying to calm his brother down. "Don't. You don't need to. Just three dicks trying to prove how strong they are. Bruises heal, and we'll be out of here in no time. Please just let this pass."

"Why did they choose you?"

"Dean…"

"WHY?!" he said, slamming his fist into the bed, making Sam jump.

He closed his eyes and slumped. "They walked in on me."

Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Doing what?"

"Uh, shit. Making out I guess."

"All this because you got with one of their crushes? Or girlfriends or whatever?"

Sam ran a hand through his floppy bangs. "That's not it."

"Then what?" Dean asked.

Sam's fists balled up until his knuckles were white. It looked as if the conversation was physically painful for him. "Fuck Dean, they walked in on me messing around with Gabriel."

The older Winchester almost fell backwards from his squatting position. Instead, he stood and gently eased himself to a seated position next to his brother. He was having difficulty choosing which of the million thoughts racing through his head to voice first. "Is that why you didn't want me to be called down?"

Sam nodded shortly.

"First of all, I don't give a shit if you and Gabe are dating or making out or," he waved his hand in summation. "Nothing gives people the right to beat up my baby brother. Especially not over petty shit that doesn't even matter. Okay? Don't think the reasoning behind it is gonna stop me from pounding on the guys that did this to you."

Sam actually cracked a small smile. "Good luck finding them. They got expelled, effective immediately."

Dean nodded; at least his brother wouldn't have to see them around anymore. He paused a minute, "Wait, what happened to Gabe? Where is he?"

He closed his eyes. "In the hospital. He'll be okay I guess, but he got it worse than I did. Not as good at self-defense I guess,"

Dean froze. "Then what the hell are we doing?"

"W-what do you mean?"

He stood up and offered a hand to his injured brother. "Let's get out of here; you should be with him,"

Sam took the outstretched hand and stood shakily. "Really?"

"Yeah. Besides, I wanna meet the guy that's worth making your ugly mug even _more_ messed up," he said with a smirk.


End file.
